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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954667">hiding never works</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWithoutTheSun/pseuds/RoseWithoutTheSun'>RoseWithoutTheSun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bondage, Ending - You'll replace Ren's scars (Boyfriend to Death), F/M, Knifeplay, POV First Person, Penis In Vagina Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWithoutTheSun/pseuds/RoseWithoutTheSun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren made a mistake, but it's not a fatal one. There's not much that can't be resolved with blood, sex, and terrified obedience. His owner really is too nice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Protagonist/Ren (Boyfriend to Death)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Nonconathon 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hiding never works</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamebucket/gifts">shamebucket</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t think I noticed the first time Ren started hiding shit from me. I won’t blame myself- the last week has been way more eventful than I ever could have dreamed of- but I will blame him, naturally. He’s the one who did it. When I was sleeping, or y’know, visiting the great outdoors, he was busy squirreling away all those poorly labeled DVDs on the shelf.</p><p>He should have stayed away from rodent-type activities, being fox beastkin, but it’s too late for that.</p><p>“What do you have to say for yourself?”</p><p>“About what?” he asks, and I slap down a DVD on the table.</p><p>“Where do you think I found this?” I ask. He shrinks back from me.</p><p>“The living room?” he asks hesitantly.</p><p>“No. I found this in the closet.” I pull his hair, forcing him to look me in the eye. “Why was it there?”</p><p>“I was just, putting some of it away so I could put the anime there for you.” His voice is beautifully earnest, trembling. “I thought you liked anime?”</p><p>“No, you’re right.” I stroke his face, but he doesn’t dare to look away. “But you should have asked first. This is my house.”</p><p>His brain isn’t fast enough, or maybe too fast, because he opens his mouth to comment on that. But he’s not dumb either. He changes his mind, and instead he says “Yes, I should have asked.”</p><p>“I’m glad you realize that now. But I’m going to make sure it sticks.”</p><p>He cringes. He’s wearing shorts, flaunting the stitched up wounds on his legs, but those need to heal. I have something else in mind.</p><p>“Come on, let’s get you on the couch.”</p><p>He follows where I lead. When I take his hand he’s very, very careful that his claws don’t dig into it.</p><p>“You remember this?” I lift up the chain with my free hand, and Ren’s ears fold back.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Now, that bitch might have chained you up here before, but I’ll find a way to make this extra special.”</p><p>“Just- just chaining me up would do that.”</p><p>“I’m not just going to rehash the same shit that he did.”</p><p>“Strade wasn’t even alive when that got put in!” Ren says, above his average volume. “I did that.”</p><p>I look him over again, and a formless, nameless irritation eases slightly. It does make sense. There’s some mess around the hook on the wall that seems to be relatively recent.</p><p>He seems to relax when I do, but not too much.</p><p>“Sit down, sweetie,” I say. He does just that, and I busy myself with clipping the chain to his collar. He thought it was sturdy enough to hold me, so in this one case I’ll trust his judgment.</p><p>But I’m not done. I retrieve some rope, but I don’t come back into the room yet. “Turn around. Hands against the wall. Close your eyes.”</p><p>When I come in he’s against the wall, doing his very best to stay right there. I walk behind him. When I run a finger down the nape of his neck he jolts like I used a cattle prod instead. I can’t help but laugh. “Stay there.”</p><p>“I’m staying,” he whispers.</p><p>He really tenses up when I press the flat end of the knife against his neck. For good reason. If I got careless with it along his spine, it’d really fuck up his mobility, wouldn’t it? And of course, if I simply turned the edge around a little...</p><p>“So, what should I use it on?”</p><p>His breathing’s so heavy. “My, my ribcage.”</p><p>“But do I have to?”</p><p>He shakes his head, a miserable whimper escaping. “No…”</p><p>“You could sound happier about that,” I inform him.</p><p>“You can use it on whatever you want,” he says, and though his body is honest as ever in its terror, he’s trying really hard! He manages to avoid bursting into tears, unlike in the basement.</p><p>“I think I will,” I say cheerfully. And I start cutting.</p><p>He still has a shirt on, thin and black. But it isn’t so thin that it’s easy to cut! My first attempt at cutting through just the fabric leaves a long mark on his back that makes him scream. It’s deeper at the top, blood oozing quickly, but it tapers off at the bottom to something less serious.</p><p>“Aww, I messed up,” I comment, patting his back. “Sorry about that. Let’s try this again.”</p><p>He lets out another strangled whimper. His feet curl against the floor, but he doesn’t turn around and try to attack me. I try the sleeve on his right arm this time. When the cloth cuts the mark it leaves on his body is more jagged. I tut a bit, then lean in to rip through the rest of the fabric. It hangs off him one sided. I take a break just to admire him, half bare-shouldered and bleeding from his wounds, tears leaking from his eyes. Then I take hold of the bottom of his shirt, lifting it so the knife can cutting up instead of down.</p><p>“You ready?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound ready at all.</p><p>I cut anyways, and although the tip digs into him when I do, it’s a comparatively small wound. I am trying to avoid giving him anemia until he heals up, even though he doesn’t deserve it.</p><p>“MMMPH.” He’s breathing heavier again, and his shirt hangs on him only by one shoulder. I lazily trace a curve along one of his ribs, just enough to cut the very surface of his skin.</p><p>“You were so good for me. I’ll let you take off the rest.”</p><p>He does, promptly, removing the remains of his shirt.</p><p>For my next act, I take some rope and bind his arms together behind his back. Then I get a padlock and roll the chain up more before locking between the links, so his movement in the room is limited to about five feet from where the chain meets the wall.</p><p>He’s scared. I wonder if it matters that I just proved I’m happy to hurt him outside the basement or the closet. He sits on the tarp when I let him. It’s not as though petulantly standing would help him out.</p><p>My hand ran through his hair, settling on one of his fuzzy ears. It’s funny. He’s scarred everywhere else, but his ears are still pristine, not an inch of fuzz broken up by injuries. I stroke the area, softly.</p><p>I can feel his heartbeat pick up under my hand. He must have seen the smirk on my face. I tear my eyes down to his face just to watch his poorly concealed fear. “Are you thinking of anything exciting?” I ask.</p><p>He shakes his head, and he’d surely shake it faster if I didn’t have a hold of him. “I wasn’t thinking of anything! I just-”</p><p>“I bet you were thinking about me, weren’t you Ren?”</p><p>“Y-yes. A little bit.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>I want him to please me now, without the use of his hands. Not his mouth either- if he’s occupied with pleasuring my cunt, it’ll be hard to hear him say anything.</p><p>Except for the vibrations, but oh, I can’t pass up the sounds either.</p><p>And oh so conveniently, there’s a third option.</p><p>“Really? I can guess what it was about.” I say. I tap at his groin with my foot, looking down at him with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t expect you to get off on that. That must make me a fool, huh?”</p><p>“No,” he says, “definitely not.”</p><p>“You won’t be able to redecorate or cook during your punishment, but I still want some kind of amusement from you,” I say. I crouch down, closer to his eye level. “Do you have any ideas?”</p><p>“I- you could, you could have me eat you out?” he says. I shake my head.</p><p>“Today I want to hear your voice. We don’t communicate enough,” I say. I examine the options I brought up to the living room, picking up the staple gun. His eyes are wide, trying to figure out what else he can give me besides blood, restrained like this.</p><p>I don’t think he’s used to this at all, no. I doubt Strade ever wanted his cock, judging by the directions Ren’s mind wanders when he’s trying so hard to get out of this. That’s Strade’s fault for being simultaneously too much of a pervert and not nearly enough of one.</p><p>I give him a hint, digging my shoe into the soft flesh of his thigh and then pressing it against his cock. He lets out a moan. “Is that your only idea?”</p><p>“No, no,” he says, “I could also, I could let you see my dick?” He seems split on the idea. It’s true that there’s more than one way I could use it.</p><p>“That does sound entertaining. You could fuck me, it’s true. You’d enjoy that almost too much for the circumstances. But I could be convinced.”</p><p>Ren throws himself into it, begging to be allowed to expose himself, to be allowed to see my cunt, to be allowed to please me in whatever small ways he can. By the end he’s frantic, straining against his chains, hoping that the sincerity of his begging will make me stop playing with my staple gun.</p><p>It works. By god, it works. Hurting Ren always sends a thrill through me, one that from time to time is purely intellectual, but hearing him beg goes directly to my cunt. I can feel it pulse against my thighs, against my crossed legs, even though I’m pretending nonchalance with the scene Ren’s making.</p><p>I pull his sweatpants down, happily greeted with the sight of his cock under a beautiful tuft of fur. I lean down and kiss right above his pubic hair, then use my teeth. He lets out a cry that’s more surprise than pain, and it makes me chuckle right against his skin. “Good boy.”</p><p>I strip off my pants, eager to get what I want, and he watches every single motion of my body.</p><p>When I’m nude, I ease myself down onto his dick. It fills me in the most pleasant way, and I sigh, bracing my hands against his belly for leverage. I ride him at my own pace, grinding forward against a very pleasant spot, watching him let out countless unrestrainable moans, until I feel my own orgasm racing through me.</p><p>He hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s fear? I’m sure he has enough blood left in him for this, wounds or not. He is erect, after all. Oh, maybe it’s pain. But he does seem to like it in some measure. Maybe the strain on his wounds is distracting him.</p><p>Either way, it doesn’t concern me. I ease myself off him and stretch, arms up in a satisfying arc he can’t manage while restrained on the ground like so much luggage. I smile down at him.</p><p>I pick up the staple gun, and tears spring to his eyes again, frustration that he did everything he could and it still wasn’t enough.</p><p>“Why are you doing that?” he pleads. I draw a finger across his mouth, a subtle hint to him to shut up, and he reluctantly obeys.</p><p>When I line the staple gun up against his skin, it’s not on bare, unblemished skin. He did do a good job today. Instead, I press it against the wounds still bleeding on his back from his motions on the ground, stapling the edges together. I don’t know how to care for or remove medical staples yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure out something. Youtube is always an option!</p><p>I do want this fox of mine to stick around for a while.</p>
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